


It's Not a Good Idea, Clarke

by eris223



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 13daysofclexa, F/F, Vampires, clextober18, day8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-07 00:29:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16397984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris223/pseuds/eris223
Summary: Clarke keeps seeing a strange woman in the cemetery every night on her way home. She's intrigued, but is it really a good idea to keep talking to a beautiful stranger who she only sees at night in a graveyard?





	1. Chapter 1

“What are you doing?”

Clarke stared at the young woman currently hunched over the elaborate flower wreath laying against the tombstone. The stranger delicately touched each petal before quickly moving on to the next. Her mouth was barely moving, and she didn’t even look up at Clarke as she answered her question.

“Counting.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at the answer, which was, honestly, a useless gesture as the other woman still hadn’t even glanced her direction. “I can see that. Why?”

“I need to.”

The woman continued to touch the petals, moving on to the inner row, as Clarke tilted her head, absolutely fascinated by the utterly unusual scene in front of her. “You need to count every petal on all these flowers?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Clarke took a cautious step towards the woman, desperate to see if the mental picture she crafted in her brain was anything like the actual face of this odd woman. The stranger instantly froze at her approach, sucking in a sharp breath of air. Her back bristled, and her muscles tensed. Clarke stopped dead in her tracks, slightly terrified at the drastic change in demeanor.

The other woman’s voice was cold as she answered, but still, she never turned. “I don’t know. I just need to. Now, will you kindly silence your repetitive questions, so I don’t have to start over again?”

Clarke swallowed her curiosity in her throat while taking a huge step backwards. “Okay,” was all she muttered as she turned to leave the curious woman to her counting.

***

“Now what are you doing?”

Clarke tried to stay away. She really did. But when she glanced to her left and saw the same intriguing woman hunched over in the same part of the cemetery, well she couldn’t resist.

“Counting.”

Clarke sighed silently to herself at the same answer she received the night before. “The grains of rice?”

“Yes.”

Clarke nodded with a shrug of her shoulders and sat down on the bench closest to the woman. Her bag dropped with a loud thump on the hard earth, and she pulled her leather coat tighter around herself as a stiff breeze chilled her bones. The leather groaned with the movement, but Clarke merely stared at the woman tediously placing every single tiny grain of rice into a pile. She tilted her head as she studied the sharp jawline in front of her. Her eyes traced along the stranger’s face, and Clarke couldn’t help but admire the raw beauty of the woman.

She was unceremoniously pulled from her thoughts when a cold yet curious voice echoed into the still night.

“You’re not going to ask why?”

Clarke shook her head, clearing her mind from her thoughts, and raised a playful eyebrow. “Is your answer going to be different from last night?”

The woman paused for a moment. Her fingers frozen in the air as she reached for another grain of rice. “No,” she reluctantly admitted.

Clarke let out a breathy sort of chuckle and shook her head. “Then no, I’m not going to ask.”

“So if you’re not going to pester me with questions, what are you doing here?”

The stranger finally lifted her head, and for the first time in two days, Clarke was rewarded with a full view of her captivating features. If she thought the woman was beautiful in profile, it was nothing compared to what stood before her now. Clarke had just enough wherewithal to not be flustered or awkward and actually responded in an appropriate amount of time, surprising herself in the process.

“I’m bored. The cemetery is on my way home. And you’re absolutely stunning.”

A ghost of a smile appeared on the corner of the mystery woman’s mouth, but it was gone before Clarke could fully appreciate it. The stranger sighed heavily, and set her jaw, pursing her lips slightly in the process. “It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”

“What’s not a good id-”  Clarke started to question, but suddenly stopped with a start. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

The woman casually lifted her arm and pointed toward the ground. “Your ID tag.”

“My what?” Clarke’s gaze followed those perfectly elegant fingers and landed on her bag, her hospital ID badge clipped to the strap. She furrowed her eyebrows, staring at the utterly tiny print underneath her picture. “How can you see that from way over there?”

“I have good eyesight,” the woman shrugged, turning her back to Clarke once again.

“Good eyesight?” Clarke guffawed. “You’d have to have a damn telescope to see that tiny print from where you’re standing.”

***

“You’re still counting the rice?”

Clarke took the same seat she occupied last night, her body slumping into the hard stone bench, exhausted after her full day at the hospital. The mysterious woman paused her movements and actually looked up at Clarke before answering. “Yes.”

Clarke smiled as she stared into brilliant green eyes, content that the woman was finally engaging with her. “But you counted it last night.”

The stranger sighed, placing another single grain of rice into a pile. “It’s still here. No one cleaned it up.”

Clarke nodded as if that was enough of an answer. She leaned forward, an elbow on her knee, supporting her chin in her hand. “How many grains are in each pile?”

“500.”

Clarke’s eyes widened dramatically with that information. “500?” She scanned the ground and easily counted 23 piles in front of her. “I can’t believe you have the patience to count all this.”

“It’s not about patience.”

“What’s it about?”

“Compulsion?” The woman shrugged. She sighed loudly, moving a few more grains into a new pile. “I don’t know, really.”

Clarke leaned back again, releasing a long drawn out breath. She closed her eyes and relaxed against the cold stone bench, completely happy to just bask in the stranger’s calming presence. She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that when her trance was broken by a quiet disheartened voice.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Clarke opened her eyes finally to find the woman standing above her. Behind her sat at least a dozen more perfectly shaped piles of rice, all accounted for, all organized. The stranger must have finished her inventory as Clarke zoned out. She forced her gaze from the oddly satisfying rice organization and back to the woman above her. She swallowed thickly at the sight.

The woman towered over her, her eyes a fiery green, at least what was left of her irises. The mysterious woman’s eyes were dilated almost completely, and that dark gaze was currently boring right through Clarke’s flesh and into her soul.

Clarke composed herself, doing her best to contain the shiver down her back and mask the strangely arousing intimidation racing through her entire body. With a voice much calmer than she expected, Clarke gulped, “You still haven’t told me your name.”

The other woman never faltered in her gaze as she answered. “You haven’t asked.”

“What’s your name?” Clarke challenged, meeting the stranger’s gaze. She inhaled deeply and stood from her bench, rising to meet the woman at eye level. Neither one backed down, and Clarke worried the stranger could hear the beat of her heart increase as the seconds ticked by. The heat pulsing through her body was overwhelming, and Clarke couldn’t help her gaze as it quickly drifted from those predatory eyes down to those perfectly formed lips. She whipped her eyes back up to meet green and found them strangely soft.

The stranger took a stiff step backwards before sighing a completely defeated, “It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”

***

“So what are you doing in a cemetery every night anyway?”

Clarke slumped down in her now usual seat, pulling out an apple from her bag before dropping it to the beautifully manicured grass beneath her. She smirked as the green-eyed beauty glanced up at her.

“What are _you_ doing here?” The stranger asked coyly, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I told you,” Clarke shrugged, waving her bitten apple for emphasis. “It’s on my way home.”

The woman narrowed her eyes disapprovingly and tucked her head down, returning to her counting. “It’s late and dangerous. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

The woman froze and glared up at Clarke before admonishing her. “Clarke…”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Clarke interrupted, taking another bite of her apple. “What are you doing in a cemetery?”

“It’s a long story,” the woman relented. She sighed and continued to murmur her count under her breath.

“I’ve got time,” Clarke smiled. “And if that ring of salt is anything to go by, you’ve got plenty of time to talk while you count. How about I start with simple questions, and we’ll go from there?”

Clarke waited on baited breath, clutching her apple tightly in one hand, not even daring to distract the woman from making the decision she was dying for her to make.

“Okay,” the woman mumbled, and Clarke nearly fell off the bench.

Masking her stumble with an unnecessarily loud response, Clarke grimaced as she heard her overeager voice shout, “Great!” She quickly cleared her throat, desperate to recover from the embarrassing previous few seconds. Relatively composed, Clarke smiled, “What’s your name?”

The woman glanced up at her, tilted her head to the side, and Clarke would have sworn that she was trying to read her mind or figure out if her intentions were honest. Clarke shifted uneasily against the stiff bench and took another bite from her apple to distract herself.

“Alexandria,” the stranger offered suddenly, and Clarke, caught off guard yet again, had to wipe away a bit of juice that dribbled from the much too large bite of apple.

“Alexandria what?” Clarke pressed, using her index finger to swipe the remaining drop of juice from the corner of her mouth.

“Woods.”

Satisfied that her chin was finally clean and clear, Clarke chanced a glance up at the woman. Alexandria’s gaze was as intense as ever, her eyes trained to a spot just below Clarke’s chin. Clarke quickly swiped her free hand across her neck, mortified that she must have missed some juice. “Alexandria Woods,” she repeated, trying to distract the other woman from her mess. “Beautiful name.”

Alexandria subtly shook her head, finally moving her gaze up to Clarke’s eyes and offered her a small smile. “You may call me Lexa.”

“Lexa? Even better,” Clarke grinned back. “So, Lexa, where are you from?”

“Here.”

“Here?” Clarke nearly choked on the last bite of her apple. “You grew up here?”

“Yes.”

“How? I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve never seen you before. It’s a small town. I know everybody.”

Lexa shifted uncomfortably and began counting the minuscule grains of salt again. “It’s not that small of a town.”

“Yes, it is,” Clarke scoffed. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before. You look my age. How old are you?”

“Older than I look,” Lexa grumbled, not meeting Clarke’s eye contact yet again.

“You know,” Clarke said, relaxing back into the bench. “You’re making this rather difficult.”

“What am I making difficult?”

“Getting to know you.”

Lexa looked up from her salt and shook her head. “I told you. It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”

***

“Okay, seriously,” Clarke exclaimed, gesturing towards the mess of uncooked rice dotting the ground. “Does someone come and put this shit out here on purpose for you to count?”

Lexa kept meticulously placing grain after grain into a small pile. “Maybe,” she finally offered. Clarke shrugged and placed her bag on the bench, opting to sit on the grass tonight, just that much closer to the stunning counting woman.

After a few minutes of mindlessly watching Lexa inventory the damned rice, Clarke cleared her throat. “I have more questions for you tonight.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“I did some research,” Clarke offered slowly, not wanting to make Lexa feel uncomfortable at the potential violation of privacy. When Lexa showed no signs of apprehension, Clarke continued. “Apparently, the Woods family was one of the first families to settle in this town. They owned nearly every business on Main Street.”

“I know,” Lexa answered without missing a beat.

“There was an Alexandria Woods, born in 1844. She died January twenty-”

“First, 1872,” Lexa finished for her. “I know.”

“How did you-” Clarke faltered, her eyes blinking rapidly. Lexa stood slowly and pointed just to her right. The ornate stone building loomed over them, and Clarke rolled her eyes as her gaze landed on the plaque just to the left of the metal door. There, in perfectly legible print, read:

_Alexandria Margaret Woods_   
_Born_   
_September 30, 1844_   
_Died_   
_January 21, 1872  
Aged 27 years_

“Oh, right,” Clarke admitted sheepishly. “Any relation to you?”

“I hope so,” Lexa laughed.

“What?” Clarke puzzled. She stared at the woman in front of her, truly bewildered by that answer.

“Um, my parents… Named me after her,” Lexa trailed off questioningly. She suddenly shook her head and lowered her chin. Her body completely stiffened as her shoulders squared aggressively. “I shouldn’t be talking to you,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

“Why not?” Clarke argued, crossing her arms, alarmed by this complete 180.

“It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”

***

“I should really have a chat with the groundskeeper.”

“What?” Lexa perplexed as she looked up from her rather large pile of popcorn kernels.

Clarke waved her hand dramatically towards the mess of tiny kernels scattered about the crypt. “He’s clearly not doing his job if he allows someone to come in here and spread all this stuff around every day.”

“It’s not his fault,” Lexa admitted before dishearteningly placing another kernel into a pile.

“Is it yours then?”

“Yes.”

Clarke waited for Lexa to elaborate, to give her some other piece of this puzzling predicament, but nothing. Lexa kept her mouth shut and her fingers delicately counting the hundreds if not thousands of unpopped popcorn kernels into manageable piles.

After a few silent minutes, Clarke worked up the courage to speak again. “I, um, I found this,” Clarke mumbled as she approached the ever counting woman. “Had to dig through boxes and boxes full of old files in town hall.”

Lexa looked up from her most current pile to take the offered piece of paper. “What’s this?”

“A photograph,” Clarke states cautiously.  “Of Alexandria Woods.”

“Clarke…”

Clarke ignored the admonishing tone coming from Lexa’s mouth and continued to stare at the curious woman next to her. She couldn’t help the words leaving her mouth. “You look a lot like your namesake. She was beautiful. Maybe a little sad though.”

“Sad?” Lexa scoffed. She handed the photograph back to Clarke forcefully and squatted down to continue making her meticulously counted popcorn piles. “She looks uncomfortable to me. Having to stand still, not move at all, wearing that? Horrible.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Clarke joked. As the sound of her laugh fell on the empty cemetery, Lexa’s body bristled for what seemed like the hundredth time since they met. Clarke’s voice caught in her throat as those now familiar shoulders rose and fell in a silent defeat.

“I’m sorry, Clarke, but this-”

“Isn’t a good idea?” Clarke finished sadly for her. Lexa kept her back to Clarke, and she could just make out the slight shake of her head as the strange woman continued counting.

“It really isn’t.”

***

“What’s that?”

Clarke practically skipped towards the peculiar woman currently pointing at the bag swinging in Clarke’s excited grip. “The rice someone placed here.”

Lexa froze in her tracks, paralyzed as her eyes rapidly blinked in confusion. “You cleaned it up?”

Clarke smirked and waved the full burlap bag in front of her. “Before I went into work this afternoon, I came by and picked up every single grain.”

“Why?”

“So I could take you out for a drink.” Clarke bit her lip in an effort to hide her apprehension, knowing the small gesture would catch Lexa’s eye, but when it did, Clarke was nowhere near prepared for the reaction it got.

Lexa’s jaw tensed, her chin lowered, and her lips parted as she drew in a slow gradual breath of air. All of those things were to be expected with the flirtatious lip biting, but what had Clarke on edge was the wild almost predatory glint in those forest green eyes. Clarke held her stare as long as she could, fighting her own urge to shiver in desire or fright, she wasn’t sure.

“Clarke,” Lexa choked out as she squeezed her eyes shut. The look of utter anguish and distress plastered on that beautiful woman’s face had Clarke quickly dropping her suggestive gesture and eager to explain.

“I know, ‘It’s not a good idea.’ But just hear me out,” Clarke rambled quickly, taking a hesitant step towards Lexa. She grinned and continued as the woman finally opened her eyes, her gaze locking onto Clarke’s as she approached.

“I like you. You’re literally the most interesting person I’ve ever met, even with your very strange compulsion to count things. I know you sort of like me too. You actually started answering my questions. Plus, I’ve seen you staring at me,” Clarke added with a wink, intending it to be a joke.

She watched as Lexa inhaled sharply and take a defensive step backwards, and quickly held out her hands, reaching out futility into thin air, just wanting to stop the woman from retreating.  “Which I don’t blame you for! It’s hard not to stare.”

“I...” Lexa shook her head, and Clarke could clearly see the internal war that was raging in Lexa’s mind.

“Just one drink. Please?”

“Fine.”

Clarke let out a breathy exhale and not giving a damn about how embarrassing it could potentially be, fist pumped the air. “Yes! I know the perfect place. It’s just down the road here.”

Clarke gestured grandly with her arm, inviting Lexa to lead the way out of the cemetery. Once on the street, she quickly matched Lexa’s pace, stepping in line with her. Though desperate to do so, Clarke carefully kept her body an appropriate distance from Lexa’s, preventing a swaying arm from brushing against the beautiful woman.

She yearned to know what Lexa’s skin felt like. It looked so soft and smooth. Would Lexa be the type of person to always have warm hands, even in the brisk autumn night, or would her hands need to be kept warm in a loving grasp that Clarke would be all too eager to provide? Would those perfectly formed lips be as supple as she imagined? Would they move and mold to her own? Would their bodies fit together as perfectly as she dreamed?

Clarke shook her head. In an effort to keep her wandering thoughts at bay, she stared directly ahead of her and concentrated on the constant click of Lexa’s boots on the sidewalk. Clarke froze in her tracks and whipped her head to the side, searching for Lexa as the sound of footsteps was suddenly absent.

“Polis Tavern still exists?” Lexa marveled, looking up at the sign hanging just above Clarke. “It looks so different.”

Clarke cocked her head to the side and studied Lexa’s confounded face as the other woman ran her hand along the old wood door. “You’re weird,” Clarke grinned. She stepped past Lexa and pushed the heavy wooden door open, waiting for her date to enter. “But I like it.”

Lexa ducked her head swiftly, but Clarke caught the shy smirk and flushed cheeks before Lexa could hide them. Suddenly full of confidence, Clarke led the way to the bar. “What would you like to drink? First round is on me.”

“I don’t drink.”

Clarke’s eyes might as well have bugged out of her head. “Oh, I’m sorry! We can go somewhere else. I just figured this would be the least awkward place for a first date. Not that this is a date. Is this a date? I kind of want it to be a date. No, not kind of, really. I really want this to be a date. But now if it is a date, I’ve definitely made it awkward. Would you like to go?”

Lexa waited patiently for Clarke to finish her impressive rant and tried to contain her smirk. “Maybe you should order yourself a drink, Clarke.”

“But you don’t drink.”

“I don’t drink alcohol,” Lexa clarified with a wave of her hand, and Clarke was caught just admiring the effortless grace the simple gesture possessed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t be around someone who does. Order a drink. Relax.”

“Can I get you anything else? Water? Coffee? Tea?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

Clarke nodded and ordered herself a simple vodka tonic, taking at least three gulps larger than she should have when it was placed in front of her. She grimaced as the alcohol burned her throat.

“Did you know that there are 53 bottles of liquor behind the bar?” Lexa suddenly commented, breaking the awkward silence that had built in the last few minutes.

“You counted them?”

“Yes. 137 glasses, 279 of those tiny straws, 71 of the big ones, 16 lime wedges, 8 beer taps, 28 sets of silverware stacked over there, 9 round tables, 44 stools…” Lexa turned to face Clarke with the first genuine smile she had seen from the mysterious woman. Clarke couldn’t contain her own and matched that beautiful toothy grin in front of her.

“And you have a total of 7 laugh lines by the corners of your eyes when you smile.”

Caught off guard by that endearing observation, Clarke abruptly threw caution to the wind and leaned forward, capturing those lips she’d been dreaming about for the past week. Lexa tensed instantly, but not before long, was kissing Clarke back. Her long, elegant fingers gently traced Clarke’s jaw, slipping softly down the length of her neck and settling at her collarbone. Clarke shivered at the combination of soft lips on her own and the gentle thumb drawing small patterns on her overly sensitive flesh.

Lexa pulled away slowly, leaving a dazed Clarke fluttering her eyes in a haze. The beautiful woman smirked, and Clarke grinned dopily back. She dropped her hand and quickly found Lexa’s, curling her fingers around the ones that had just seconds ago caressed Clarke’s skin. Clarke chuckled to herself. Lexa’s hands were definitely the type that needed to be warmed by a loving embrace.  

Lexa gave her hand a quick squeeze, and with a sadness that confused Clarke muttered, “This really isn’t a good idea, Clarke.”

“One of these nights, you’ll have to elaborate on that thought,” Clarke muttered as she leaned back in to kiss those lips once more.

***

“I haven’t seen you in a few weeks,” Clarke sighed as she finally caught a glimpse of the woman who had occupied her mind since their kiss.

Lexa stiffened at the sound of her voice and kept her back to Clarke as she counted the rice on the ground. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy avoiding me?”

Clarke saw those delicate shoulders rise and fall with an epic sigh and could have sworn she heard an almost feral growl escape those lungs before Lexa’s voice cut through the night. “I told you-”

“I don’t care if it’s not a good idea!” Clarke interrupted her and as she took a forceful step towards the woman in front of her, she was met, face to face, by wild green eyes. Clarke recoiled at her sudden appearance, more surprised than frightened. Lexa stood her ground, lowering her chin, and dared Clarke to continue.

“I stopped cleaning up the rice today,” was all Clarke was able to squeak out.

“I noticed,” Lexa deadpanned but didn’t move and didn’t break her gaze. After a moment, Lexa’s tongue peeked out from the corner of her mouth and ran tantalizingly slow across her upper lip. Clarke struggled to maintain her breathing at the sight, and when she swallowed her arousal in her throat, she swore Lexa’s gaze followed the movement.

Another painful snarl broke the stillness of the night, and Lexa hastily turned and squatted down, continuing her curse of counting. Clarke relaxed at the sudden distance between them, taking a deep breath to calm her fear and strange attraction.

Comfortable enough to start the conversation she was actually there for, Clarke cleared her throat and stared into the chestnut hair in front of her. “I did some more research.”

“About what?”

“You,” Clarke answered slowly. Lexa didn’t even bother responding. The only indication that she even heard Clarke was the slight pause she gave as she placed another grain of rice into a pile. “You suffer from arithmomania.”

Still no reaction, so Clarke squared her shoulders, strengthening her pose to give her the courage to say the most insane thing to ever come from her mouth. “And I think you’re a vampire.”

Lexa’s whole body froze. “Pardon?”

Clarke didn’t repeat herself. She merely raised her chin slightly as Lexa finally rose from her squatted position. The beautiful woman straightened her back and turned slowly to face Clarke. Her whole body tense, her muscles bristling with every small step she took towards Clarke.

Clarke’s mind battled against her body’s instinct to cower at the approaching threat, and she was delighted when her mind won out. She was less than delighted when her voice quivered with her words. “I only see you at night, you look exactly like that woman from the picture (a woman who died nearly 150 years ago), you have crazy good eyesight, you’re as pale as a ghost, I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything, and you suffer from arithmomania.”

Lexa laughed and the sudden sound had Clarke rooted to the spot. “How does compulsively counting make me a vampire?”

Bewildered, Clarke smiled for it was the only thing she could possibly do at the moment as Lexa’s whole body language changed instantly. Her threatening pose was gone and replaced with an almost timid one. Clarke shrugged her shoulders and decided to answer Lexa’s question.

“It’s an old myth. Often forgotten in today’s pop culture vampire stories. I did my research, remember?” Clarke threw in a little wink for good measure, completely at ease once again.

“You sound insane,” Lexa said with a subtle shake of her head. She chuckled to herself before turning and continuing her counting.

***

“Talk to me,” Clarke begged as Lexa walked stiffly away from her.

“No.”

“Lexa, please. Is this about the other night? What I said? I just…” Clarke wrapped her hand around Lexa’s firm bicep and attempted to halt her retreat.  

Lexa just shrugged and effortlessly rid Clarke of her iron grip on her. “It’s not a good idea, Clarke.”

***

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Clarke shouted down the dark street, running as fast as her tired legs would allow her. Her bag swayed heavily against her hip as the added weight of a full bag of rice shifted awkwardly with her hasty movements.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Lexa muttered, keeping her eyes ahead of her, as Clarke finally caught up.

“What if I want you to?” Clarke offered desperately.

Lexa came to an abrupt stop, and Clarke used all of her strength to not bump into the suddenly stationary body in front of her. “You can’t say that, Clarke,” Lexa whispered with more melancholy than she had ever heard from the woman. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Clarke scoffed at the statement, fed up with Lexa’s constant avoidance. “It’s not for lack of effort on my part.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa shook her head and spared a glance over to Clarke. Her eyes were a brilliant green and hid a deep sadness behind them. Just as Clarke was about to reach up and touch that sharp jawline, to press their lips together in a way Clarke had been dreaming about for nearly a month now, she saw those eyes shift into something dangerous.

These constant changes in demeanor were giving Clarke whiplash, but before she could comment on it, Lexa bit out a sharp, “It’s just not a good idea,” before turning and walking briskly into the night.

***

“God damn it, Lexa! What do I have to do to get you to talk to me?” Clarke roared at the woman currently walking away from her again.

Clarke took a few bold steps forward and placed her body directly in Lexa’s path, shifting left and right, mirroring Lexa’s every movement. Lexa huffed an irritated laugh and shook her head. She placed two alarmingly strong hands on Clarke’s shoulders, and with unprecedented ease, moved Clarke out of her way.

Before Lexa could make her way out of the cemetery, Clarke hastily rummaged through her shoulder bag and pulled out the heavy burlap sack. With a wickedly smug grin, Clarke tossed the bag just in front of Lexa and mentally did a happy dance as the bag exploded on the ground, sending thousands of tiny grains of rice scattering on the manicured lawn.

The satisfaction she felt in that moment was well worth a hundred of the severely predatory glares Lexa was throwing her.

***

Lexa crossed her arms in front of her, her jaw moving in slight annoyance as Clarke approached her slowly. “Are you going to throw rice again?”

Clarke smirked at the memory but quickly dropped the gesture. “Will it get you to talk to me?”

“No.”

“Lexa.”

“Clarke.”

Clarke threw her hands in the air in frustration, completely fed up the with the stubborn woman. She tried staying away, but the truth of the matter was that nothing could rid her of thoughts of Lexa. That woman was everywhere.

Clarke thought of her as she passed the cemetery on her way to and from work. She thought of her as she ate stir fry with her mother, the damned rice mocking her every bite. She thought of her as she walked past the flower shop and Polis Tavern. She thought of her sitting at the movies and reaching the unpopped kernels in the bottom of the bag. There was no escaping Lexa, and Clarke had come to the inevitable realization that she didn’t want to escape her any longer.

“I’m not going to stop coming out here.”

“Why?” Lexa sighed, running her hands frustratingly up and down her face. “Why do you feel like you need to be here? What about me makes you so reckless?”

“Reckless?” Clarke repeated, taking a bold step forward. “What are you talking about?”

Lexa lowered her chin, and that now-familiar predatory gaze overtook her beautiful features. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Clarke.”

She did. There was really no denying it any further. Every assumption she made all those weeks ago had to be true. The simplest explanation was the best explanation. Vampire. But Clarke’s mind wouldn’t completely accept that answer unless she had her undeniable proof, so she placed her hands fervently on her hips and stated, “I don’t actually.”

Lexa’s gaze smoldered even hotter, and Clarke felt her body begin to react appropriately. “You want confirmation?” Lexa growled. “Fine. Here!”

Lexa’s body moved faster than Clarke could comprehend. In an instant, a cold hand was pressed against Clarke’s hip, holding her impossibly tight. Fingers wrapped in her blonde hair and tugged down, exposing Clarke’s vulnerable throat.

“Is this what you want?” Lexa whispered, keeping her mouth slightly parted as she bored into Clarke’s blue eyes with a fire that burned somewhere between desire and hunger.

“Lexa…” Clarke whimpered under her entrancing gaze.

“Do you have any idea how amazing the human body is?” Lexa purred, her eyes fluttering rapidly in pleasure.

“Right now,” she hummed. “Your brain is releasing norepinephrine causing your heart rate to increase.”

Lexa moved ever closer to Clarke. She tilted her head to the side just enough for her nose to brush slightly against Clarke’s heated flesh.

“Your blood is pumping faster and faster through your body, and I can hear it. It’s a beautiful sound, Clarke. Like a river raging downstream.”

Lexa slowly dragged her lips up the length of Clarke’s neck, stopping just below her ear.

“Your arteries are now constricting, increasing your blood pressure. Your pupils are dilating due to the hormone, and your body is burning more and more calories as I speak causing your temperature to rise,” she whispered, and Clarke did everything in her rapidly fleeting power to not buckle at the knees.

“Your starting to sweat; your body’s attempt to regulate its temperature, and in that you’re releasing your pheromones, Clarke. It’s positively intoxicating.” Lexa’s tongue licked lightly at the crook of her neck, sending waves of pleasure and desire coursing through Clarke’s already aroused body.

“It wasn’t a good idea because I’m not sure how much longer I can control myself.”

Lexa pressed a small kiss to Clarke’s upper neck.

“It wasn’t a good idea because I don’t _want_ to control myself.”

Lexa scraped her sharp teeth along Clarke’s exposed flesh and placed another lingering kiss slightly lower on her neck.

“So don’t,” Clarke stuttered out.

“Clarke,” Lexa choked as she pulled back almost imperceptibly. Her pupils were completely blown, and she looked as lust drunk and hungry as Clarke felt. The intensity of her gaze was enough to embolden Clarke to make her next reckless decision.

“Lose control,” Clarke commanded. “Please, Lexa, I-” Clarke’s words were cut off as Lexa growled and swiftly leaned in, her head tilted, providing her with an impeccable angle.

Clarke gasped as perfectly sharp teeth punctured her soft flesh and supple lips wrapped gently around the new wounds.


	2. Chapter 2

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ Lexa stilled as the feminine voice filled the calm night. She wasn’t surprised by this intruder for she heard the heartbeat thundering as it approached minutes ago. Touching the final petal on the ornate wreath in front of her, Lexa slowly raised her head allowing the scent to wash over her body. It was something she never got used to, the smell of humans, and this one seemed particularly intoxicating.  _

_ Realizing that she had not answered the sweet voice, Lexa inhaled deeply once more before offering a simple answer. _

_ “Counting.” _

_ She remained in her squatted position, her hand tracing the same silky petal, as the stranger took another step towards her. Her back muscles involuntarily tensed, her arms bristled with anticipation as her skin began to warm with the stranger’s body heat. The woman was that close.  _

_ Lexa grit her teeth in an effort to control every impulse in her body that was screaming to turn and taste the woman’s flesh. And she succeeded. _

_ “Why?” _

_ Lexa closed her eyes and let her mind wander to what the owner of the voice looked like. She pictured long blonde hair, its waves cascading delicately along a slender neck. A neck that undoubtedly pulsed with a beautiful rhythm as she waited on bated breath for Lexa to answer. _

_ But answer her, she didn’t. Lexa remained still, her mind slowly pulling itself from the fantasy and back into her damned reality. She let a heavy sigh escape her lips as she contemplated her compulsion. She didn’t have a good answer for the woman. She didn’t even have a good answer for herself as to why she needed to count things. It was just a cruel joke, another punishment for the damned, as if she needed one more reason to curse her dark existence.  _

_ Lexa brushed her finger over the delicate petal once more, taking in a deep breath through her nose to allow the floral scent of the wreath to mix with the mouth-watering scent of blood. _

***

Lexa’s mouth wrapped gently around the fresh wounds, her cool lips warming every second she pressed them to that sensitive spot just above the crook of Clarke’s neck. She pulled, hard enough to encourage a steady stream of blood onto her tongue, but not so hard as to cause permanent damage to the woman in her arms. She released a moan of pleasure at the delectable taste in her mouth, and the sound had Clarke grasping her arm that held her hip. Lexa felt a warm able hand dig into her lower back, keeping her close.

Clarke’s whole body shifted as she released a whisper of a sigh, and Lexa could feel those strong legs begin to tremble. The loss of blood was almost to the point of danger. She paused and pulled her lips away from that sweet flesh, her mouth just ghosting over the wounds. Clarke’s heart hammered in her ears, and Lexa could smell the adrenaline as it coursed through her body.

***

_ Lexa paced back and forth, the worn path in front of the crypt quickly becoming more dirt than grass. She ran her long fingers through her hair and nearly growled in frustration. The compulsion to sink her teeth into flesh, to drink, to kill, was always overwhelming, but this... This was something entirely different. The compulsion was there. No doubt. But there was something more. Something in her dark damaged soul wanted to keep her. _

_ Lexa suddenly inhaled sharply as the increasingly familiar scent washed over her body. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, and she felt her muscles tense in desire and pleasure.  _

_ She was proud of her mastery over her instincts. It took years of practice, countless trials that always ended up in blood and death, until one night, she resisted. It became easier after that, and the smell and sound of humans almost never tempted her beyond control. Until this woman. _

_ She could tell the woman was frightened as she approached. Lexa could smell the cortisol pumping through her body faster and faster, and it was alluring, to say the least. But Lexa fought it. She always did when it came to innocents. Unfortunately, it was becoming alarmingly difficult to resist.  _

_ This woman was spreading light upon her darkness, and it was a feeling she had been missing for years. But she knew what would happen if the woman continued to come here. She knew that there would be a point where she could no longer control her desires. The scent was driving her instincts into a frenzy. It had happened before. Too many times. And that little bit of humanity that Lexa held onto was screaming at her to frighten this woman away. For her own protection. _

_ With her most dangerous voice, Lexa coldly bit out, “It’s not a good idea.” She stood at her full height, lowered her chin slightly and let her teeth glimmer in the moonlight. She knew the effect it would have on the woman, and Lexa was relieved when she heard that stuttered gasp escape her lips.  _

_ As the woman turned and fled, Lexa relaxed her posture and dropped her head slightly in defeat. She knew it was the right thing to do. To scare away this woman who she found so intriguing, but she couldn’t help the melancholy that came with it. That little bit of hope that maybe she had found someone who could ease the utter loneliness she felt. _

_ Lexa allowed herself exactly ten more seconds of self-pity before she tore off into the night in search of something to satisfy her compulsion, knowing deep down that nothing would but the blood of the woman she so craved. _

***

Lexa pulled away even more, determined to keep her compulsion in check. She let her instincts win out for a moment. She caved and let her body taste that blood that called to her. Once was enough. She didn’t want to be the monster she knew she was. 

A trickle of blood slowly made its way down that beautifully pale skin and caught on the cotton collar of Clarke’s scrubs.

“Lexa…” Clarke whispered into her ear.

“Clarke,” Lexa returned, allowing her lips to gently caress the tingling flesh as she spoke. Just as she finished wrapping her tongue around that beautiful name, she felt Clarke release her arm. Lexa blinked in surprise as Clarke used her now free hand to push her lips back to the flowing wounds.

***

_ That tantalizing woman stood before her with a determination in her eyes the likes of which Lexa had never seen. She was standing there, practically offering herself on a silver platter, and Lexa was quickly losing her resolve. The woman reached out with a slow hand and grasped Lexa’s forearm.  _

_ The proximity of her hot flesh, the sound of her blood rushing through her veins, the smell of her humanity, was all too much. With a speed that still surprised Lexa, she grabbed that very hand and pulled the woman’s back to her chest. She held her prey in an iron grip and ran her nose from the crook of her neck to the tip of her ear. The woman shuddered in her arms, and the scent of arousal emanated off of her. _

_ How could Lexa have denied herself this pleasure for so long? _

_ Lexa felt her mouth begin to water as she gently traced the tip of her tongue along the pulsing artery and slowly sank her sharp teeth into the soft neck. _

_ The woman didn’t even scream. Not that they ever did. It was a strange thing Lexa discovered after years of being damned. Humans seemed to want her. They wanted to feel her. She often pondered as to why so many didn’t act on the fear she could smell  _ _ radiating _ _ off of them. What about her made everyone so reckless? _ _   
_

_ Lexa considered stopping before the heart pumped for the last time. She still felt a small amount of regret for taking yet another life, but she didn’t release her. Now that Lexa had her in her grasp, now that her body had tasted the sweet blood it had been craving, her compulsion was far too strong to stop. She pulled from the open wounds until she heard that beautiful rhythmic cadence crawl to a stop.  _

***

Using all the strength she could muster, Lexa merely flattened her tongue and dragged it from the crook of Clarke’s neck up to the small wounds, collecting the spilled blood as she went. She felt the shiver slip up Clarke’s entire body, and Lexa smiled into the exposed neck as she held her impossibly tight.

Her body and mind raged at her to wrap her lips around the source again, to pull until there was nothing left, but her heart had other ideas. Clarke had shed a light upon her, and she’d be even more damned if she caused her any further damage than what she already had. With impressive strength and conviction, Lexa leaned forward, ever so slightly, and pressed a lingering kiss to the slowing wound.

Lexa pulled back far enough to look into those captivating eyes and slowly released the iron grip she had on the honey wheat hair but maintained a steady hold on Clarke’s hip.

***

_ Lexa cradled the body in her hands, so soft and fragile. Humans would never cease to amaze her. It had been so long since she was one, she often forgot just how vulnerable they were. Their skin was so delicate, like the finest silk, one snag on something sharp and it would be ruined. Their flesh was so warm, even on the brink of death, Lexa could feel the body in her arms  _ _ emanating _ _ heat, and she reveled in the foreign feeling. _

_ Quickly ridding her mind of thoughts of humans in general, Lexa took a final look at the one in her arms, her heart heavy with regret. She lost control of her compulsion. She let the darkness take over. She was weak. She gave in. And now the woman who shed light upon her, who made her feel once again was on the brink of death.  _

_ Lexa shuddered as a tear slipped down her cold cheek. The first she had shed in over 150 years. It caught on the corner of her lip, and she instinctively slid her tongue over it, shaking her head at the salty wetness of it. _

***

“What now?” Clarke exhaled breathily, her chest rising and falling at an almost alarmingly quick rate.

Lexa paused, stretching her hearing out into the night, desperate to determine if that rapid pulse was just from desire and not an underlying problem. After too long a moment, Lexa finally shook her head and responded to the question still hanging on the air. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve tasted my blood, so I’m pretty sure we’re past the whole ‘Hi, are you done counting rice; wanna go grab a drink?’ phase in our relationship,” Clarke smiled.

Lexa froze at that word. Relationship. What was she thinking? She just spent the better part of two months trying to get this woman to leave. She couldn’t let Clarke get any closer. Too many mistakes had already been made. She allowed herself to feel for this woman. But Clarke didn’t deserve the cursed existence Lexa led. She was too full of  life , of light, to be damned to the darkness. 

Lexa had caved for a moment, too tempted by the alluring bravery bordering stupidity of Clarke. But that one word snapped her back into reality. Lexa released the hold on Clarke’s hip and put some much-needed distance between them.

She felt her eyes close as she shook her head. “Clarke, this really isn’t a good idea.”

Lexa braced herself for the eruption she knew was inevitable, and she felt the heat of anger boil under Clarke’s skin. “Lexa, I swear. If you say that one more time I’m going to-”

Lexa’s eyes snapped open as she heard that heart emit that  odd sound yet again . Her instincts so quick, her body so agile, she caught Clarke before her knees even began to give way. 

“Clarke!” She shouted at the unconscious woman in her arms. She pressed her head to Clarke’s chest and sighed in relief as she heard the distinct flutter of a heartbeat. But it was dull. Lexa effortlessly lifted the woman in her arms and set a rapid pace towards the hospital, all the while cursing herself for being so weak.

***

Clarke grumbled into the bleak blackness. She tried lifting her arms, but they wouldn’t move. Her legs were stiff as a board, and her head pounded as she struggled to open her eyes. As she tried once more to  move , her mind caught up to the flashes. Was this what death felt like? Full of random images? Of dreams? Of fantasies?

She tried once again, and finally, her eyes cooperated. They fluttered as she adjusted to the dim light, but before she could say a word, a strong cool hand reached down, pressing firmly on her chest.

“Slowly, Clarke.”

That voice. Clarke inhaled sharply as she recalled those vivid dreams. Lexa. Lexa was there. Or she was Lexa. It was as if she was living through Lexa’s memories.

Clarke’s breathing escalated as her mind began to panic. She strained against the dead weight holding her down, and Lexa slowly eased off, allowing Clarke to finally rise. “What are all these flashes? I saw you there. The bite.” 

Clarke slapped her open hand to her neck, the slightly inflamed wounds pressed against her palm. “What’s happening? Where am I?”

Her eyes drifted over to the woman sitting beside her. Lexa sat, still as the night, her eyes trained dangerously on Clarke as she spoke. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea, Clarke.”

Clarke violently rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in frustration, elated that they were finally cooperating. “Would you stop that already? I get it! It wasn’t a good idea,” Clarke shouted. She let her eyes wander to the ceiling, giving herself a moment to compose her body. “But we’re well past that now. So tell me. What the hell is going on, Lexa?”

Clarke could see the sigh before she heard it escape Lexa’s lips. “What was the last thing you remember?”

Clarke set her jaw and closed her eyes. Her mind reached into the vast darkness and wrapped around the last thing she could physically remember. Her offering herself to Lexa. Lexa accepting the offer, pulling her close, sinking her teeth in, the whisper of a moan that left her lips as she tasted Clarke’s blood. 

Clarke reached her hand up and gently caressed the still angry wound on her neck as she answered. “The feeling of your lips on my neck.”

Clarke fluttered her eyes open and just caught the subtle nod Lexa offered. “And what was the last thing you saw?”

Clarke closed her eyes once more, pulling that last memory to the forefront of her mind. She recalled Lexa’s feeling of helplessness, a feeling that was so odd coming from a woman Clarke assumed was nearly invincible. 

“You,” she offered as she met Lexa’s troubled green eyes. “Rushing me to the hospital. What happened?”

“I’d prefer if you remembered.”

“I’d prefer an actual answer,” Clarke bit out rather harshly. She huffed and rolled her eyes but softened both her voice and her body before continuing. “Please, Lexa. Tell me.”

Lexa opened her mouth to answer but shut it just as quickly. Clarke could see the internal struggle wage violently in Lexa’s mind and was delighted when that stubborn woman shook her head and stared directly into Clarke’s soul. 

“It’s a blood mutation. Two actually. MTHFR gene variant and Factor V Leiden. Neither one is particularly rare, but having both…” Lexa paused and shook her head. She scooted ever closer, and Clarke felt her whole body react at the new proximity of the alluring woman. Lexa reached out, and once again caught Clarke off guard as she gently pulled Clarke’s hand and grasped it between both of her cool ones.

Lexa squeezed it lightly, and the consoling gesture had Clarke in a panic. “Clarke, less than 0.5% of the population has both. The mutations can affect how the body forms blood clots.”

“I know. I’m a nurse, remember?” Clarke nodded trying desperately to figure out what this all could mean. She had a rare blood mutation. So what? She knew from experience and years of schooling that neither one was particularly dangerous. It only increased the chance of blood clots. She was a healthy, fit, young woman. Nothing to worry about. But the way Lexa held her hand, the way she looked deep into her eyes, the way her voice took on that soft timber had Clarke slightly terrified.

Lexa released a huff of laughter and shook her head. “Alright, Nurse, well, what you don’t know is that when I tasted you, I started a chain reaction.”

Lexa’s voice instantly dropped the light tone it just held after Clarke’s little joke and took on a very somber tone instead. A tone that had Clarke paying as close attention as she could. “In most humans, the bite is just that, a bite. But with you, with your mutations, your blood reacts differently to me. I’ve heard about it, over the years, but it’s so rare, Clarke.”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, eager for Lexa to get to the point. “What are you saying?”

“When a vampire drinks from a person with both, that’s it…” Lexa shrugged, and Clarke could swear she saw those intense green eyes fill with unshed tears.

“That’s what?” Clarke asked, terrified to get the confirmation she knew was coming.

“It’s fatal, Clarke.”

***

_ Lexa worried her jaw minutely as her mind set to the task at hand. She steadied the woman cradled in her left arm and brought her right wrist to her mouth. After only a fraction of hesitation, Lexa broke her own skin with her teeth, ripping a gash large enough for the blood to flow freely. _

_ Lexa sat frozen, paralyzed with the decision she was about to make. This was it. The point of no return. She could try to turn her, to damn her for all eternity, or she could let her die. Neither seemed like a good enough option, but selfishly, she decided that one was slightly better than the other. _

_ She adjusted the deadweight in her lap and carefully brought her wrist to those pink lips. Lexa’s eyes widened as the first few drops of blood stained the flesh, and the woman’s eyes fluttered at the feeling. _

_ “Drink,” Lexa commanded as she lowered her wrist further, touching her cool skin to the still warm lips. _

_ Lexa sighed in relief as she felt those lips wrap hesitantly around her ripped flesh, and at the first pull, she nearly growled. _

_ She had forgotten what it felt like to have her blood slowly drained from her body. It was an almost intimate act, erotic in fact, and the sensation sent shivers up her spine. No wonder humans never screamed when she drank from them. The feeling was all too thrilling. _

_ When strong warm fingers reached out and wrapped around Lexa’s wrist, anchoring her to the woman in her arms, Lexa gasped in pleasure. _

_ She glanced down and was met with the darkest blue eyes she had ever seen, but just when Lexa was about to lean down, to press her own lips to the flush skin beneath her, the woman’s eyes rolled shut. Her body went limp, and her grasp on Lexa faltered. In a panic, Lexa wrapped both arms around her and brought her up in a tight embrace. She held on for a moment, silently praying that it had been enough. That this woman would be healed and wake up in the world of the damned. _

***

Clarke dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, urging the pounding headache to flee. The flashes were becoming as overwhelming as the knowledge that she was dying. She rubbed her eyes harshly causing her vision to dance with multicolored blobs, the temporary pain in her eye sockets overpowering the pounding in her head.

She grit her teeth and finally removed her hands. If these were her last moments on earth, she wasn’t about to spend them voluntarily hurting herself, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to open her eyes. The pounding in her head intensified; the sound almost drowning out the memory of the most recent dream.

“Was that another one? It was blurry this time. What’s happening?” Clarke bit out over the drumming. She threw her hands over her ears, desperate for a moment of silence so she could collect her rampant thoughts. “And what the hell is that noise? That pounding?”

“Clarke,” Lexa called out to her. Clarke kept her eyes screwed shut as Lexa gently wrapped her fingers around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her ears. “Open your eyes. Look at me.” 

Clarke took in a deep steadying breath and slowly fluttered her eyes open. “That’s it,” Lexa encouraged. “I need you to concentrate on me. Can you do that?”

Clarke obeyed and locked her eyes on the intense green ones currently staring at her. A sudden burst of pain erupted in her chest, and Clarke doubled over, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“Lexa, it hurts,” Clarke choked out. She writhed on the ground unable to do anything else. “My body is on fire. Everything is crawling, like fire ants nibbling away underneath my skin.”

Clarke’s body was lifted up, and steady arms grasped her shoulders. “Look at me, Clarke.”

With Herculean effort, Clarke opened her eyes once more and her sight fell upon Lexa’s captivating features. Her green eyes, her sharp jawline, those perfectly plump lips. And while they were truly a sight to behold, looking at them did nothing to ease the pain burning throughout her body.

“Clarke, look at me.”

“I am!” Clarke shouted, irritated that that was all Lexa was offering in comfort.

“I need you to really look at me,” Lexa implored once again, giving her a firm squeeze of encouragement.

Clarke huffed but did as she was told. She stared at that face in front of her and began to notice small things she hadn’t seen before. Like the tiny little beauty mark on Lexa’s upper lip. A freckle. Almost imperceivable. Actually, Lexa had a splattering of freckles delicately dusting her nose and cheeks. They were charming, innocently beautiful, and Clarke couldn’t help but count just how many there were.

“37,” Clarke stated with a smile. “You have 37 tiny freckles on your face that I can see.”

Lexa gave her a knowing little smirk. “Good. Feel better?”

Clarke sighed as the burning under her skin subsided. She looked around, finally taking into account her surroundings. A stone building, twelve iron candle holders on the wall, a large ornate tomb in the center. A crypt. Lexa’s crypt.

Clarke licked her lips as her mind concentrated on that noise still echoing inside her skull. “That pounding I hear… It’s a heartbeat, isn’t it?”

Lexa nodded slowly. 

Clarke inhaled a steadying breath. “It isn’t yours.”

Lexa shook her head.

Clarke nodded with the confirmation, and stated rather than asked, “And it isn’t mine.”

“No. It isn’t.”

***

Clarke stood at full height and ran her tongue along her warmed lips. The sweet taste of blood still lingered, and Clarke hummed at the sensation. She looked down at the unconscious man, her head tilting to the side as she gazed at the wounds on his neck. “Will he be a problem?”

“No,” Lexa shook her head. She sauntered slowly towards Clarke, a look of pure admiration and pride danced in those now familiar green eyes. Lexa wrapped her firm arms around Clarke’s waist, hugging her from behind, and rested her chin on her shoulder. “Humans have a tendency to not believe in the supernatural. He’ll wake up and rationalize it some way or another,” Lexa murmured into Clarke’s ear before pressing a soft kiss to the healing scar on her neck.

Clarke smiled and grasped Lexa’s arms, tightening their embrace. “Lexa?”

Lexa hummed in response and pressed another lingering kiss to the back of her jaw. “139.”

Lexa pulled back just enough for Clarke to turn in her hold, and Clarke couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression she was met with.  Lexa’s face was the perfect picture of confusion, her eyebrows knitted, her nose scrunched, her head tilted slightly to the side.“139?”

Clarke grinned before dropping her features to the softest expression she could muster. “The number of minutes I spent with you before I realized I wanted eternity.”

Clarke could feel every single muscle in Lexa’s body tense. Hell, she could hear it. She was even able to hear the tiny gasp that escaped Lexa’s mouth before she spoke. “You wanted it?”

“I want you.”

“I know you didn’t have a choice-”

“Stop,” Clarke commanded. She reached up and traced the sharp jawline with her fingers, reveling in the smooth perfection of skin. She caressed those kissable lips before meeting Lexa’s fiery gaze. “It’s not how I imagined you’d change my life when I first met you, but it’s not so bad.”

Lexa shook her head and looked down. “You say that now. You haven’t killed anyone yet. You haven’t even truly accepted your damned fate.”

Clarke pressed her fingers to the underside of Lexa’s jaw, urging her to look up once again. “Maybe not, but you’ll help me when that happens.”

“23,” Lexa  smiled , and before Clarke could ask what she was counting, Lexa continued. “The number of times I wanted to kiss you and didn’t.”

An achingly wide grin erupted on Clarke’s face, and she could feel the fresh blood flow through her cold skin and warm her cheeks.

“24, now,” Lexa breathed.

“Well, get over here before it becomes 25.” Clarke tangled her fingers in that chestnut hair and pulled Lexa to her. The sensation of those soft lips pressed against her own in a way she had only dreamed about for the past month had Clarke’s mind reeling. 

Clarke suddenly felt a warm tingle crash through her body. Her skin began to warm; she could feel the blush rise in her cheeks. The sensation was exquisite, and she released a loud moan causing Lexa to pull back.

Lexa smirked knowingly at her for a moment. Clarke could only stand paralyzed as Lexa’s beautiful features turned dark and dangerous. “Intoxicating, isn’t it?” she breathed.

Lexa reached out and let her fingers glide up Clarke’s arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. “The feeling of fresh blood running through your veins.”

Clarke shivered as Lexa stepped closer, her fingers wrapping possessively around her hips holding her tight, her nose gently caressing the crook of Clarke’s neck. “You almost smell human again.”

If Clarke thought the anticipation of the first bite was arousing, this might as well have been a nuclear bomb of desire. Clarke could hear the  lust dripping from Lexa’s breath. She could smell that provocative scent that always seemed to surround her, but this time it was even more potent. 

Clarke had no control over her own body as Lexa pressed a small kiss to the healed wounds letting her teeth slightly graze the exposed flesh and whispered, “May I?”

Realizing that Lexa wanted to bite her again, Clarke’s eyes widened, and she choked out a quick, “We can do that?”

Lexa merely kept her lips pressed to Clarke’s neck and hummed a small affirmation.

Clarke tried to maintain her dwindling composure as she felt Lexa’s tongue poke out from her lips and tease her overly sensitive skin. “What else can we do?”

Clarke could feel the grin on Lexa’s lips as her body shivered in response to her teasing. “We can see, hear, and smell things we couldn’t before,” Lexa whispered into her ear, her breath tickling her hair against her neck.

Lexa shifted her hands lower, grasping Clarke’s thighs and effortlessly lifted her into the air. “We’re impossibly strong.” 

Clarke instinctively wrapped her legs around Lexa’s waist and gasped as she felt her back collide with the cold stone wall. Lexa kept her trapped there, helplessly pinned as she pressed a long kiss to Clarke’s collarbone. “We have very few weaknesses.”

“Sunlight?” Clarke managed to squeak out.

“Irritating. Painful. Nothing more,” Lexa murmured as her lips slowly traveled higher to the underside of Clarke’s jaw.

“Stake through the heart?”

“Nonsense.” Lexa placed a lingering kiss to the scar on her neck, and Clarke struggled to control her breathing.

“Silver?” She exhaled shallowly.

“Beautiful.” Lexa wrapped her lips around that scar and sucked but didn’t press her teeth into Clarke’s flesh. 

The sensation was everything Clarke wanted, and yet it wasn’t enough. She needed Lexa to taste her again. She needed that feeling of Lexa holding her life in her hands. “Lexa, please,” Clarke begged, digging her fingers firmly into Lexa’s back, urging her to give her what she desired.

“You’re the one asking questions, Clarke,” Lexa mused into Clarke’s neck, her teeth just scraping that sensitive spot that caused shivers to explode up her spine. 

But before Clarke could even roll her eyes at this infuriatingly alluring woman, she gasped as sharp teeth easily broke open the healed wounds once again.


End file.
